How dreary—to be—Somebody!
How public—like a Frog—
To tell one's name—the livelong June—
To an admiring Bog!

Sunday, January 20, 2008

Advice on how to write a lot (not from me)

I've probably mentioned before that I'm a huge fan of the self-help genre, so when I saw someone (probably at a blog, but I completely forget where) reference Paul J. Silvia's How to Write a Lot: A Practical Guide to Productive Academic Writing, I said to myself, Self, you know you want to read that. So I did, most of it while waiting for my car to be serviced a week or so ago - it's a slim little volume of under 150 pages, and it's very approachable. Much of what he says can be found in Robert Boice's Professors as Writers (or reworked with other good stuff in his Advice for New Faculty Members), but Silvia's presentation is refreshing, largely amusing, and generally effective.

Silvia's main point is that writing is hard and that people don't usually like to do it, but the fact is that academics have to write, so rather than spending a lot of time deeply analyzing the roots of one's particular phobias about writing, one just needs to do it. That sounds like the Nike school of writing methodology, and that's not far off, but I think what Silvia's really trying to do is demystify writing - by pointing out that it's an activity just like any other, and a skill that anyone can learn and incorporate into his or her life, not a mystical process that requires years of psychoanalysis.

The crucial tool Silvia offers up for doing so is a schedule. He states, "This book cannot help you unless you accept the principle of scheduling, because the only way to write a lot is to write regularly, regardless of whether you feel like writing." (28) He doesn't care how long you write at a time, just that you write regularly. His chapter on "Specious Barriers to Writing a Lot" is probably the most helpful of the book, partly because his humorous presentation succeeds in graphically puncturing the pretentions behind many of the "specious barriers."

For instance, he identifies "Specious Barrier 1" as: "'I can't find time to write,' also known as 'I would write more if I could just find big blocks of time.'" (11) As Silvia points out, academics have used this excuse since time immemorial, and it's a nicely reassuring excuse because it suggests that not writing so much isn't really your fault - it's about your circumstances. He then proceeds to shred any plausibility this excuse has ever had:

Why is this barrier specious? The key lies in the word find. When people endorse this specious barrier, I imagine them roaming through their schedules like naturalists in search of Time to Write, that most elusive and secretive of creatures. Do you need to "find time to teach"? Of course not - you have a teaching schedule and you never miss it. If you think that writing time is lurking somewhere, hidden deep within your weekly schedule, you will never write a lot. (12)

Instead, academics must "allot" time to write, not find it. Those academics who claim not to be schedule people, are, he says, "masterly schedulers at other times: They always teach at the same time, go to bed at the same time, watch their favorite TV shows at the same time, and so on." (14) Therefore, to claim that they can't figure out how to schedule a time to write is nonsense.

Now, this made me laugh. It also made me wince, because it describes me far more closely than I'd like. And it made me take a closer look at my writing habits and carve out time only for writing. (After all, one of the upsides of my current gig is that there aren't that many hours of the week when it matters to anyone else where I am and what I'm doing.)

Silvia's "Specious Barrier 2" is "'I need to do some more analyses first,' aka, 'I need to read a few more articles,'" and his solution is another one of my favorite parts of the book: do your reading during your writing time. (18) In essence, although he doesn't say this explicitly, he defines "writing time" as "time for doing whatever you need to get done in order ultimately to be able to produce writing" - and for me, this articulates and resolves one of the problems I've had with other academic writing guides. Because while I know some people do this, I don't neatly separate reading/researching from writing - it's only by writing that I figure out what else it is I need to research, and vice versa. Advice about writing that treats writing only as the actual process of putting words to paper always left me uneasy, subconsciously, because it overlooked all the kinds of looking things up and revisiting of articles and books and so on that are an integral part of my writing process. I probably shouldn't have needed someone to tell me that yes, such work IS writing work, but at heart, that's what Silvia does in discussing Specious Barrier 2, and I have to admit, it's a little liberating to hear.

Silvia's other Specious Barriers are that one would write more if one had a better computer/chair/desk/etc., and that one can only write when one feels inspired, and he dispatches them just as expeditiously (in the case of the latter, relying heavily on Boice's research about levels of writing productivity in scheduled sessions versus "inspired" sessions). His comments about the physical space of writing are an especially nice corrective to guides that emphasize having space to yourself and a space only for your writing, where you do nothing else - certainly a dedicated workspace is a good thing, but it's also good to remember that in its absence, it's still possible to write.

After demolishing the Specious Barriers to writing, Silvia discusses motivational tools, particularly setting goals, setting priorities, and monitoring one's progress. His next chapter describes how to set up a writing group in order to enforce writing on a schedule; he then has chapters on writing style, how to write journal articles, how to write books, and a conclusion.

Overall, his book is entertaining and sensible, but after its first two chapters it grows increasingly discipline-specific. Silvia is a psychologist, writing for psychologists (the book was published by the APA), and some of his advice is less well-suited for non-psychologists. For instance, he describes writing journal articles as following a formula, and argues that once one has mastered the formula, writing articles is easy; he proceeds to outline the typical sections of a social-science article. That's all very well and good for psychologists, but less helpful for those in the humanities, whose articles are more free-wheeling. Now, of course, Silvia's not talking to such people; I just want to point out that non-psychologists will find much of value in his book, but not everything.

I'm also not sure what I think of his discussion of writer's block, which he dismisses somewhat brutally:

I love writer's block. I love it for the same reasons I love tree spirits and talking woodland creatures - they're charming and they don't exist. When people tell me they have writer's block, I ask, "What on earth are you trying to write?" Academic writers cannot get writer's block. Don't confuse yourself with your friends teaching creative writing in the fine arts department. You're not crafting a deep narrative or composing metaphors that expose mysteries of the human heart. The subtlety of your analysis will not move readers to tears, although the tediousness of it might.People will not photocopy your reference list and pass it out friends whom they wish to inspire. Novelists and poets are the landscape artists and portrait painters; academic writers are the people with big paint sprayers who repaint your basement.

Writer's block is a good example of a dispositional fallacy: A description of behavior can't also explain the described behavior. Writer's block is nothing more than the behavior of not writing. Saying that you can't write because of writer's block is merely saying that you can't write because you aren't writing. It's trivial. The cure for writer's block - if you can cure a specious affliction - is writing....

One of the great mysteries of the writing schedule system - a spooky mystery, in fact - is that scheduled writer's don't get writer's block, whatever that is. Prolific writers follow their schedule regardless of whether they feel like writing. Some days they don't write much - writing is a grim business, after all - but they're nevertheless sitting and writing.

I appreciate this, but I'm not sure I completely agree with it, because I think he paints what academic writers do with too broad a brush. For one thing: what is spray-painting a basement if not a metaphor? For another, without overestimating its importance, I think humanities writing needs to borrow more from the novelists and poets at times than perhaps psychological writing does. I also get the sense Silvia's never suffered from writer's block himself, and that perhaps he doesn't realize how it's possible for those days when writers don't write much to start to accumulate and make someone's life sheer hell. I realize, though, that this may simply mean that I'm too attached to writer's block as an excuse for my own lack of productivity at times. In any case, his blunt perspective shocks the reader into thinking about writer's block in a new way, which is useful.

Silvia's discussions of style and the mechanics of submitting to journals or book publishers are fine, though they seem a little cursory; if these are the areas of writing about which you have the most questions, Beth Luey's Handbook for Academic Authors or William Germano's Getting It Published will be much more helpful. In fact, it's hard not to come away from How to Write a Lot with the impression that Silvia's real contribution here - and what interests him most - is the concept of Specious Barriers, and that much of the rest of the book is a more or less conventional retelling of advice available in many other formats. He presents it well, however, and his direct discussion of why the excuses we make for not writing are just that - excuses, and pretty sorry ones to boot - is definitely worth a read.

23 Comments

I've actually come to agree with that statement on writer's block. I think it gets used as an excuse to not write. At least it does for me.

In my world, writer's block means "I don't want to write now" or "I don't want to write about *this* now." Amazingly enough, if the pressure is on and I want to do something, the writing will get done. It only doesn't get done when I feel ambivalent (which perhaps means I shouldn't be doing this project). I'm now in the process of learning how to only do things I want to do, making sure I finish what I start.

PG, that makes a lot of sense, and there's a lot about Silvia's statement that's attractive to me. I guess I resist accepting it entirely because I can think of a time during my dissertation when I wasn't writing and I really felt blocked and it was awful. But I think there are two things to consider in that case: first, that while I really wanted to be *done* with the diss, I didn't necessarily want to be writing it. (At least, at that point.) Which fits with what you've said.

And second, I think it wasn't so much that I had something called writer's block as much as that I was depressed. And most of the other cases of what I'd call writer's block have been grad students not writing their disses, who've not been working because they've been depressed. So maybe I should make a distinction between not writing because you're depressed, and the mythical ailment of writer's block.

(Because honestly, while there have been longer-than-I'd-like stretches of not writing since I graduated, I'm happy not calling those writer's block; they were just me not writing. I just have seen a lot of depression-related non-writing that I kind of want to give *some* label to.)

Hmmm. A couple of things (and of course I'll comment even though I've not read the book):

1) I think there is some merit to his specious barrier #1 EXCEPT that for me certain parts of the writing process really can't get done without large chunks of unstructured time. Given the kind of institution at which I work, I cannot just "allot" myself time like this. In other words, depending on context, this may be a real barrier to getting writing done, and it's one that people must find ways to *negotiate* and those don't only have to do with picking a schedule and sticking to it. For example, I've found that I can only conceptualize and work through the major ideas and difficult things in an article (or the book) during breaks - even if it's just spring break, though more likely in summer. On the other hand, once I've done that work, I can do cleaning up, editing, revision, etc. during the regular academic year. If I tried to fit the stuff that I do on breaks into the academic year - to force it into the academic year - I wouldn't write anything, because the reality is that I don't have the mental space to think in the way that I need to do for that writing work when school is in session.

2) Do I think there's such a thing as "writer's block" - where one literally can't write a word? No. Do I think that there is such a thing as being so riddled with anxiety that one can't produce good prose, no matter how much one forces it? Yes. Because, as you note, for us in the humanities, it's not just about following a formula. And in English, I know I have felt massive anxiety about the quality of my *writing* at different moments - and worried that I will be judged as an idiot not on the basis of the *ideas* but on the basis of the inelegance of my prose. When I've gestured toward what I call writer's block (though I don't think I've ever really had it) this is what I'm talking about. And those I know whom I would say really do have writer's block? That's what I see when they describe their problem. Now, it's true that one way out of that is to write oneself out of it. By practicing writing in low-stakes ways. But I do think it's a real problem, and one that shouldn't just be dismissed as procrastination.

Dr. Crazy - I wonder if there's another disciplinary difference here? Because I would imagine that a psychologist like Silvia is going to do some of the conceptualization and working through of major ideas you describe in the lab (says the woman who knows nothing about social science research, so everyone out there who does should feel free to correct me). And lab time is conspicuously different from writing time - humanities people don't really have lab time (the closest for me is when I'm in the archives, which happens maybe every other year if I'm lucky). So Silvia doesn't have to plan for that kind of uninterrupted time as writing time, because it can happen in other contexts? I'd be surprised if his experiments/research can be done in 1-2 hr slots during the week (though maybe they can. Again, ignoramus, here).

But I'm also not sure he'd have a problem with your approach - as long as you *are* writing regularly in addition to your big chunks of conceptualizing time and not saying you can ONLY write ANYTHING in big chunks. (Obviously, you've been incredibly productive!)

I think what kind of institution you're at definitely makes a difference in how easily you can create a schedule - Silvia's at UNC Greensboro, which isn't Harvard or Yale, but it has a grad program and he probably doesn't teach 4-4. I know there are semesters in some institutions when it's really really REALLY hard to plan one's schedule much more than a week in advance at the most, and someone who's at such an institution is going to have a very different looking schedule than someone at an Ivy. I think he'd say, though, that even scheduling one or two hours a week is better than not scheduling anytime at all.

Thanks for posting your comments on Silvia's book, New Kid. I actually bought it a couple of weeks ago and have been trying to get round to reading it. Hmmmm - I think that says a lot. Maybe a specious barrier Silvia hasn't thought of?!

I agree that part of Silvia's attitude may come from the divide between the disciplines (I'm an ignoramus where that's concerned, too, but I do remember from my interlude with Stupid Freud who was doing doctoral work in psychology that writing was about "writing up" results and not about conceptualizing per se). Also, it's true that Silvia would probably think that the way I operate fits with his scheduling model, though piggybacking on what you said about how type of institution matters, I'd add that it took me some time to figure out how to negotiate the demands of this job with research/writing because my life changed so radically from what it was in graduate school. I had to let go of the writing habits that I'd built throughout my education and build a brand new set. This alone is enough to cause writer's block :) And I'd think that the same might be true for people in whatever discipline if they landed in a non-research-university environment.

This came at the right time for me. I'm trying to write a conference paper and wanted to start writing tonight, and quite frankly, probably have plenty to say that I don't need more research. However, my terror of getting nailed in the questions with "why didn't you mention so and so's argument?" in them has made me feel like I need to keep reading. Except working with a deadline means for this draft it is impossible to read everything. So I think I'll start writing, and when I run out of things to say, I'll keep reading, and then come back.

Re: writing in the social sciences. You do often work your ideas out before the paper, but not in the lab. Rather you work the ideas out in a grant (a different writing exercise). That said, there is nearly alway something I can work on if I can't write the big ideas for some reason, even in grant writing. I can write the participants section or edit references or describe the public health impact etc. Things that won't change (much) with the big picture of my grant.

Once I've written a grant, often I can write methods/results and large chunks of the intro without much thought. But it can take a while to digest results sufficiently to write a truely good discussion.

I think he's wrong like a lot of male academics who think being able to boast about scholarly productivity is the same as being able to boast about their tool size and who think creative work is the same for everybody. Just Be Like Me! Who wouldn't want to be Like Me?

I actually don't know anybody else as productive as I am, other than journalists, and these are what works for me:

1. Never set up a schedule. Never ever set up a routine. If you depend on a routine, you are screwed when it gets screwed up. Instead, set up goals. For me, it's 1,000 words a day or a page a day, depending on what I am writing. If my capacity to write depends on a schedule, then every time I have a break in my routine I have a break in my writing. Breaks in routine happen constantly, and it's not your lack of discipline that does it: it's faculty meetings scheduled without much notice, it's travel, it's emergencies with kids.

So...you get a last-minute meeting scheduled over your writing time from 9 until 11, before class. You'd better be SENIOR faculty before you pull the old "I can't make it then" routine too many times--at least at my university. Thus, your precious schedule of productivity gets hosed. Not me. I've got 1,000 words to do, even if it means I work during lunch or after everybody else goes to sleep because I have goals, not time-dependent plans. Routine, schmoutine.

2. Writer's block does exist. You can try to define it alway, you can strut around acting like you're too big and invulnerable because you Have It All Figured Out and thus you Never Buckle to Fear, but it exists. And bragging about your lack of it isn't any real help to people who get it (it reminds of me of that line from that all 80's song: "you're all worthless and weak!")

People have performance anxiety all the time in all fields. When I get writer's block, it's one of two things: 1) I'm afraid of messing up and 2) I don't know what the f*ck I am saying in the writing. Getting through both of those requires a little thinking. I'm so sick of people like this guy deciding when my anxiety is an "excuse" and not.

I seldom get writer's block anymore since I've learned essentially to just lower my standards. Yeah, ok, I don't know what I am saying here, but I'll keep saying something for 1,000 words and use it someday and call myself done for the day. I'm not sure there is any value in that exercise, but it's what I do. Chances are, all that stuff I wrote not knowing where I am going will get cut. And I won't probably use it ever. But I got my 1,000 words that day which meant I could go do something else.

Finally, I know the difference between days when I have no idea what to say, when I am stuck, essentially, and days when I am just fucking around not doing my work. The first instance can be considered writer's block, the second is procrastination. They may both come from fear, but I think it's bogus to equate them as if the days when you just don't know how to accomplish what you need to in a paper are the same as the days when you are willfully just screwing around. I mean, maybe I am just abnormally perceptive, but I don't think so.

One my biggest barriers to writing is damn fool blogs and all those piles of sand that seem to be constantly fill all my jars :-). (Note that it's not that I can't find time to write - I don't always make time to write. Essentially the problem of taking orders instead of making sandwiches.)

I think your comment about metaphor is important. I think most of us (regardless of discipline) are frequently trying to convey complex ideas, and that often isn't easy. So we struggle. Sometimes, though, writing something, even if it's crap, is better than developing an ulcer over it. And having something in front of you to edit and massage is often an effective start to the process of actually finding the text you want.

Interesting conversation you've started! I had a trip to the library on my "to do" list for today anyway, and it just so happens that there's a copy of Silvia's book sitting on the shelf there, so I'll be picking it up.

I like Chaser's approach to writing; I've always responded better to tasks than schedules, so I'd rather say "I must write for half an hour today" than "I must write from 9:00 to 9:30 today." That being said, however, I'm looking forward to reading Silvia, 'cause I do love me a self-help book!

You know, I go back and forth between the schedule and task methods - I think there are pluses/minuses to both. One of the lovely things about the task method is that once you get it done, your obligation for the day is over, so some days it might not take up that much time if you're on a roll. Plus, the focus is on product. On a schedule, it's perfectly possible to sit and stare at the computer for 2 hours, have put in your writing time, yet not actually produced much of anything. On the other hand, a plus for the schedule method may be that on those awful days, it's nice to know that if you put in your two hours, you've fulfilled your obligation, even if the words just don't want to appear - for me, not being able to produce the 1000 words (or whatever) and having the task continue to hang over me as the day progresses generates lots of anxiety and work avoidance!

Right now, what I like about scheduling is that while I do track the words I write (and think that's important), my writing process usually entails so much revision and reworking that tracking words/pages doesn't tell me that much - I can work intensely for two hours and end up with the same number of words as when I started. So time is a reassuring measure of accomplishment! There are times, though, when the words/pages task method is probably better.

When I say schedule, though, it's not something I necessarily set in stone ahead of time - it's more like, the night before I'll say, Okay, tomorrow I'm writing from 2-3. And right now this works for me because I do have a fair amount of flexible time, so if I don't say "I'll do it at this time," I tend to let it slide by me. But I don't set the whole week's schedule in advance, let alone the semester or anything.

Anyway, I did actually think his advice was pretty helpful, so I may not be representing it well here. Different things do work for different people, so I think as long as someone has a system that works for them, it's all good. (I think it's Joan Bolker's book where she talks to a client whose system is to work at the kitchen table. "How does that work for you?" she asks. The client says, "I never get anything done there.") I think if you're struggling and don't have a system that works for you, then this book is a good a place to start as any.

My two cents: I do both schedule and task. I've found in the past few months that blocking out research time is enormously helpful. While I'm not senior faculty, I do have the ability to simply put that block of time out of reach as 'RESEARCH' and thus far the PTB have left me alone. If I violate it, they will.

Count me in those that believe in writer's block; mine manifests as solid as concrete. I can't put a decent word to paper or screen. But I've also found that writing can loosen it up; I'll write something silly and then it starts breaking down the concretized block.

As someone struggling with writing and a new faculty position, I found this book very helpful. I read it last summer. It made me laugh and it made me feel more powerful about my own ability to be a better (and more productive) writer.

Thanks for posting your summary--brought writing back into the forefront of my mind (where I needed it to be). Your summary and everyone's comments really eased my mind.

For me, there was just something about his book that made me feel like I was capable. I have read alot of professional development books, but his made me feel like I could make the starting steps.
1. Put writing into your schedule and guard that time! Easy to do. (I used to go to the gym with a guy that (when I complained about not having time to work out) said, "You brush your teeth every day, right?"). This semester I have blocked out several hours a week where I will NOT do anything besides write.
2. Set goals.
3. Don't give myself the excuse of 'writer's block.' Write something. Tomorrow is one of my days for writing--I am going to return to a manuscript I have put away.

Finally, a nod to your note about depression. I have also had "depressed block." I am hoping to write myself out of my depression. Hope your semester is productive and pleasant.

NK, you nail it right on the head. Each of us approaches writing a bit differently and I also agree with one of the comments that it is hard to fit in focused writing where we are conceptualizing into small bits of time while our minds are racing about a million other things. I think we all need at least one personal assistant at our beck and call to get everything we need done done each day.

ON a related note, I just watched the C-Span interview with Nell Irvin Painter and one of the best parts of the interview is her talking about her writing process. Maybe the hardest thing for all of us to deal with effectively is that we want it to come out right the first time and, in great contrast, good writing is numerous rewriting and/or revising efforts.

I could research from here to forever and didn't realize until after I finished my dissertation that not everyone looks at all of the relevant sources before they write. ;-)

And, it all also probably depends on how many other things you are trying to juggle in your professional and personal lives. It seems that most successful writers have a "seminar group" that either meets online or over dinner/drinks to interact with one another's work or possibly have a gaggle of graduate students doing some of the detail work that seems to take the most time.

I also prefer tasks to schedules, partially because my schedule is very irregular, so it's rare that I'd have a certain hour free each day. I like to set goals for the year, the month, sometimes the week or the day. Then you also get the nice "checking off a list" feeling, which is very encouraging for me.

I agree with Silvia on the
"specious barrier #1" too because I'm a writer and academic with two little kids, and many of the women I know with little kids say they no longer write because they don't have those long Saturday mornings at their desk or coffee shop anymore. It's frustrating to me, because I think the same way Silvia does-- if you need to write, for your job or your mental health or just because you are a writer, then you need to find a new way to write once your life changes, not just give up and let your kids be your excuse. Writing is part of who I am, and therefore I make the time to continue to do it, and use whatever time I can find.

I know that sounds harsh, but if you've only got fifteen minutes at a time to write, then use that fifteen minutes, you know? It's better than not writing at all.

My writer's block is usually because I am not clear on my ideas at this spot and so they are giving me a headache. I need to say it perfectly and I can't articulate at all now so I am stalled. Forcing myself to do anything - write crap, outline an article, revise a sentence, (sometimes just trying to explain it in laymans terms to an actual layman) forces me through it. It's painful and I hate it but it's got to come out. (It's really like mental constipation - how's that for a lovely metaphor)

I also think that sometimes we forget to add 'thinking time' to our schedules. I have been beating myself up as I have not been able to write anything for the last few weeks, despite scheduling time and sitting in front of my computor. Then today (while doing something else) what I wanted to say and how I wanted to say just popped into my head and I know that writing will be easy for the next few days/weeks.

The pressure to always be producing places an emphasis on the physical act of writing or perhaps being physically out-there researching in an archive (or whatever your context is) that denies that at some point we have got to give the ingredients the opportunity to combine and produce a new product. Unfortunately, there doesn't seem to be any advice on how we identify when we're thinking and when we are just procrastinating.

Working from schedules is not for everyone. I work off of schedules, actually setting up a schedule of what I will do with my days for the whole term, but the reason it works extremely well for me is that I understand that the schedule is flexible. It means that I need to get in forty-five minutes of brisk walking Monday through Friday, and two hours of the gym on the weekend. It means I need an hour a day of language/translation work. It means I need a certain block of time a day for writing. If I get to that time earlier or later in the day, it doesn't matter, and if I get a little bit more or a little bit less of my target time one day (because of unexpected appointments or meetings), that's ok too. I think the problem some people have with schedules is that they allow the schedule to start dictating whether their day has been a success or a failure, like setting up rules for themselves rather than a template for how one would like to spend their time. You are in control of your schedule, even after the schedule has been written up.

I have been extremely productive and have felt very positive about my writing in large part because of the sense of control over my days that scheduling gives me. It's a way of asserting my means of controlling the situation by working at my tasks each day, a little bit at a time, to reach my larger goals. It doesn't work for everyone, but I don't think it's true that schedules just don't work. I would probably have difficulty with just setting up tasks without a sense of my target time commitment for those tasks (especially when it comes to teaching, where one MUST be time-efficient). With research, I'd find it dangerous (as in, coming dangerously close to not finishing) if I didn't keep close track of my time.

I think the problem some people have with schedules is that they allow the schedule to start dictating whether their day has been a success or a failure, like setting up rules for themselves rather than a template for how one would like to spend their time.

Rokeya, I think that's so true - because I know I tend to do that, to think, "Blast, I didn't actually write from 9-10, my day is ruined and I'm a failure!!!" when it's, say, 10:30 am and I still have lots of time to get things done. :-P I like the idea of thinking of it as a template. I'm trying to think of scheduling as you do, a way to make sure I do the things I want to do, rather than as about one more thing I *have* to do.

I, too, enjoyed his book but think there are lots of disciplinary differences. For instance, I'm not done with my dissertation because my advisor still wants me to revise for style and "power." I'm guessing Silva's editors aren't looking for that.

I do think there is a difference between people that complain about writing and writer's block so much that they don't get anything done and those who are truly paralyzed by depression, anxiety, etc. I know that Silva would understand the difference-but his book isn't for people coping with real medical issues. For people paralyzed, combine this book with good therapy, medication (if needed), and a resolve to change and it could produce some good results.

(I missed this post originally and came back to it through Dr. Brazen Hussy. That's why I'm late to the writing party.)